Walthamstow, Revisited

The Rod woke on a still Sunday morning and looked eastward through the window.

It was a cloudy, cold and windless day - perfect trout catching weather.  With conditions so strongly in his favour, The Rod felt confident enough to brave a return to Walthamstow Reservoir, the dark waters where he had suffered so much trout-less torment in the past.

Verily, the water was still! (and Picturesque!)

The Rod was indeed optimistic

And rightly so, for within half an hour he spotted a hover of three trout swimming in formation along the bank.  He deftly placed a Diawl Bach ahead of them and ensnared one upon his hook!

The trout seemed a little small and after removing the hook carefully The Rod held it in the water and began to contemplate whether it was takable or not.  The trout decided 'not' and slipped away before The Rod had finished his contemplations.  

Resolved to be more decisive going forwards, The Rod wandered a little along the bank and after a brief parley with a fellow fly fisherman switched to a Minkie on a sinking line, which it was assured to him would elicit the most monstrous trout from the deep.

Indeed, only a few moments later a far worthier opponent was wrestling with the other end of his line. After bringing it ashore The Rod felt he had indeed conquered his nemesis and a rosy picture painted itself in his imagination, of many trout-filled days to come at Walthamstow Reservoirs. 

After another hour fishing the same technique and getting nothing, The Rod had the sense of teetering on the edge of a black abyss, and made a strategic decision to retreat to the pub over the road.

Verily the pub was convivial!  The Sunday roast was excellent and there was even a lovely fire in the hearth, the most convivial of pub convivialities.

The Rod did not sit too close to the fire, however, as he had a trout in his bag which he was sure would not benefit from being gently braised in its own juices. Indeed he had other designs for it involving the gentle application of alder smoke...

Bewl Water, Roxy Music, Beef Ribs

The Rev. Wish and The Rod got their kit together on a fine and sunny Sunday to attend to some fishing a little further afield than usual.  With such a long journey on the cards, it was essential that the essentials were packed; rods, lures, lines and The Best of Roxy Music Live. 

We accomplished the hour's drive without incident and arrived at Bewl Water.  Verily, it is picturesque!

 

Bewl Water is a rather large body of water and so it is best to make your way around it on a small boat, with a suitably qualified seaman at the helm

 

In the end the action was limited, with only a single trout being spotted making three passes at a Minkie, and so on the way home alternative BBQ ingredients were obtained from the infamous Ginger Pig butchery

The beef ribs were on a low heat for two hours and made an adequate stand-in for the absent smoked trout.

The Invention of the Fish-Bomb

It  didn't take Mr L. very long to Get Busy on a fine Saturday at Syon Park

Mr L. playing a fish (left) and "acting natural for the camera" (right)

Indeed his tally of four fish to The Wandering Rod's none did  leave The Rod rather worried over lunch.

 

Finding catching fish a little tedious and repetitive, Mr L. broke the monotony with a little "here comes the choo-choo train"

That distraction gave The Rod all the opportunity he needed, and having switched to Blue Flash Damsel on an intermediate sinking line, he proceeded to bring his tally to two in short time.

On the way back East, The Rod asked Mr L. "Would you kindly hold my fish in front of St Paul's cathedral?", 

To which Mr L. replied "Why, certainly"

 

 The humble beginnings of the fish-bomb

The fish were then dressed, partly smoked and then barbequed, using cages improvised from aluminium foil and a coathanger

The fish were accompanied by rice, vegetables, New Zealand wine, expensive Kweichow Moutai, Mekong Spirit, Cheap Kweichow Moutai, vodka made from milk, and ice-cream.

Revenge of the Un-tweed Trout-Mousse

On an overcast winter's day in London, The Rod and Rev. Goldwish ventured west to break-in the reverend's tackle, recently arrived from New Zealand.

Keen to make an good impression upon our fishy hosts, while at the same time protecting his cranium from the winter chill, the reverend employed an innovative arrangement of tweed cap and woolly hat, that was met with quiet approval by the trout.   

The Rod on the other hand, recently returned from his "It was THIS big" lecture tour of Norway, was sporting a furry monstrosity of a hat designed to keep the most vicious arctic blizzards at bay

Ridiculous as he already looked, The Rod then had the temerity to attempt a demonstration of the 10 o'clock, 2 o'clock method.  (Not the well known timing approach for the intake of tea and biscuits, but rather a method of fine tuning one's fly casting style)

The wise among you will know that a self-respecting trout would never venture onto the hook of a tweedless vagrant, much less a know-it-all-tweedless-vagrant-with-a-rediculous-hat.  So how, must we ask, could this have happened;

Well, every action has a reaction, as we shall see.

Back home The Rod attempted to cook Britains best dish*, Trout Mousse.  The basic procedure is as follows: cook the trout, mix it with mousse, bake in a ramekin and turn out onto a plate.  Before turning out, the dish looked positively enticing

Unfortunately, upon attempting to "turn out" the mousse onto the plate, it was the trout who had the last laugh indeed

One wonders whether, had he turned out in more appropriate attire, The Rod would have had more success with his mousse.

* as chosen by ITV on October 27 2007